The Spooky Church

Don’t ask me why I ended up sitting in the spooky church! Curiosity, definitely, but also some strange stuff happening recently: pictures falling from walls, things turning up where they’re not supposed to be. Hard to make any sense of and it feels foolish telling folk. I’ve just had this feeling.

Mostly women in this wee Spiritualist Church just back off the main road. Wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking. Wee grey building where strange things are meant to happen. Inside it’s clean and tidy with a wee alter-dias at the front for the mediums to ‘perform’ on. Wee blue hymn book on every chair. Women seem more prone to this stuff. Men say ‘pah! Load of rubbish’ Women say ‘guess what she told me, it’s uncanny’

There are a few men here but their body language is different. It suggests scepticism. Arms crossed, almost huffy look on the face: defiant.  ‘This wasn’t my idea, just humouring the wife’

Some of the mediums seem better attuned to their business than others. Folk are gasping and nodding in rapt affirmation. There have even been tears. I’m in a dwam of fascination. Can these people really make contact with the dead. If not, why would they claim to do so? What is it all about? They’re just wee wifie’s, there’s no money or fee involved. All of them appear to be good-natured, apple-cheeked auld granny’s, not your glamorous con-artists at all.

All of a sudden I’m nudged by the woman next to me. She nods toward the podium where I appear to be being addressed.

“Yes, you sir’. My insides turn to ice. I’m told to respond vocally so as to make the contact stronger with ‘the spirit side’. I clear my throat and offer ‘hello’, not sure who I am saying it for, the medium or ‘the spirit side’. Both, I assume.

“Have you a grandparent on the spirit side”

Well, given my age, this would appear a safe bet but I say “Aye…I mean, yes”

“Lovely looking lady. She’s got her blue jacket on and she’s pointing at as if to say do you remember her blue jacket?”

Again, somewhat of a generality, but she did happen to wear a sort of padded anorak affair which happened to be blue.

“Erm…aye, aye I do”

“Lovely smile and a good singer too”

Fifty/fifty bet I guess but it so happens she was. Aye at the Clyde Club. Couldn’t get her off the stage after a few whisky and gingers. Laughter from the congregation as the medium chuckles at my spirit granny singing.

“She has something to tell you, something she feels quite strongly about”

I wait breathlessly for this pronouncement from my dead relative. Some family chicanery. Yer maw wisnae really yer maw, it was me. Yer Uncle Charlie was gay like you thought.

“She says…..” Big pause here for effect. Wouldn’t be surprised at a drum roll from the beyond.

“She says you’re needing a haircut. It’s an awfie mess”

Aye, very good Granny. I won’t be coming here again.